


The Goatman and the Girl with the Golden Leg

by Sookiestark



Series: Ghost Stories of Westeros [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dornish War, F/M, Ghosts, Goats, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Aemon the Dragonknight finds himself outside Castle Wyl, no cloak, no shoes, no sword, with King Baelor, dying of multiple snake bites. As he considers how he will get them through the Boneway, a treacherous mountain pass, to Blackhaven alive with no supplies or food, a mysterious woman comes out of the woods to help them. Or is she there for more sinister reasons?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the story of Aemon and Baelor in the viper pit and their journey through the Boneway. As I was thinking about it, I was like how in the world did they ever survive at all?... So this is one answer to that question...It shouldn't be too long .. Maybe three or four chapters

Aemon Targaryen walked out of gates of Castle Wyl, barefoot, and took every step telling himself, do not slip. Do not stumble. Do not give them the satisfaction of knowing how weak you are. Remember what Daeron said. You have a dragon. He is standing in front of you. You are as much a dragon as Daeron. You will carry your King. You will not stumble. Do not give these damned Dornishmen anything to snicker about or anything at all. 

His underused muscles screamed at him and he felt his labored breath burn his lungs, but he did not stumble. Several times, he stepped on the sharp edge of a rock and felt it cut the bottom of his feet. He did not cry out or even flinch. No response or sign of weakness. He would give them nothing to laugh at later.

Some of the children mocked him and threw stones or apples growing from the apple trees that grew around the keep. The children called him the Goatman. They called him Goatman because of his beard and how long it had grown and how unkempt he was. He wondered if he looked like one of the silver billy goats that lived all along the mountains or like the wooly shepherds that tended to them. He did not ask. Most of these were the same children that had thrown him bread and apples, while he was in the crow’s cage, so that he could eat and survive. He had even learned some of their names while he was here, swinging over the viper pit.

When Baelor had arrived with an escort from the Prince of Dorne to Castle Wyl, Aemon had wanted to call out to his cousin to leave immediately and return to King’s Landing, to forget Aemon ever was born alive, to tell Naerys to pray for him because he was a lost soul. Aemon knew that Lord Wyl had lost all five of his sons to Daeron’s invasion of Dorne. Lord Wyl had told him the story, as he locked him in this cage. “I had five sons before your King came to Dorne. Five. Now, I have five stony cairns on the mountainside and no heirs. I will never set you free. I like the idea of having six cairns out there and show people how I piss on your grave.”

But Aemon was in a cage and could not tell Baelor the hardness of Lord Wyl’s heart or the danger, Aemon could do nothing but watch the events unfold in front of him. Baelor had shown the letter written from the Prince of Dorne’s own hand. The letter spoke of the future alliance between Dorne and the Targaryens. Baelor’s nephew and heir, Daeron, would marry Princess Mariah in seven years, cementing an alliance and peace in the Seven Kingdoms. The letter also contained how the Prince of Dorne would like King Baelor and his cousin, Ser Aemon, to be treated courteously and with all the honor and respect due a visiting ruler from a foreign country and to be released to Baelor immediately.

Lord Wyl had looked at the letter for a long time. Then he ripped it up and threw it at Baelor’s feet. “If you want to free your cousin, here is the key. Free him.”

He had tossed the key to Baelor and it had landed at his barefoot, dirty feet.

At this, the escort that the Prince of Dorne had sent with Baelor felt the disrespect, not only to King Baelor, but to their own Prince of Dorne. Steel was drawn, but Lord Wyl had five hundred men to Baelor’s escort of twenty. The escort was a good group of men, loyal knights to their ruler, willing to die for it, and the stood their ground. However, Baelor had called out that enough blood had been spilled and the Seven would protect him.

Aemon had seen the look in his cousin’s deep purple eyes, the look of a man who hears the voice of the gods, a man slightly touched, a man who thinks the laws of nature don’t apply to him. The look he wore reminded him of Daeron, Baelor’s brother, when he spoke of invading Dorne and of Aegon, his brother, when he spoke of women and the lust he had that never seemed quenched. At this, Aemon had found his voice and called out to Baelor to return to King’s Landing and forget about him, to remember he was the King and the kingdom needed him. However, Baelor was not listening to him. Instead, Baelor kneeled down in the dirt, with his crown of flowers and prayed silently, his lips moving in silent words.

Baelor stood and pulled a shirt and pants from a bag that he slung over his shoulders, to cover Aemon’s nakedness, once he freed him from the cage. After all, nakedness was a sin and shameful to the Seven. Baelor had called out to him to have no fear that the Seven would protect him and shut the mouths of the snakes while he walked through the pit to reach him. 

The viper pit was no wider than fifteen or twenty feet, but it was at least five foot deep and Aemon was hanging above the middle. Lord Wyl laughed when the ladder was set against the wall and Baelor climbed in. There had to be a hundred vipers, black, spotted, ringed with red, all writhing below him.

At first, it seemed that Baelor was right and the gods had shut the mouths of the serpents. He took a few hesitant steps, keeping his eyes fixed on Aemon, smiling. When the first one leapt up with a hiss to bite Baelor’s heel, the smile fell from his face. Baelor was still Targaryen and kept walking with his eyes on his cousin, but the color drained from his face and there was a look of fear. By the time, Aemon grabbed him by the arm to pull him to safety, Baelor had received at least seven bites on his legs and feet. Aemon had grabbed the shirt Baelor had brought and ripped it in long pieces, as he heard Lord Wyl laugh. He tied tourniquets around his King’s legs to keep the poison from traveling throughout his body, but he knew he needed to get him safe and care for Baelor’s injuries. 

Aemon had pulled the pants on and used a strip of the shirt as a belt, realizing how much weight he had lost since his imprisonment. He lifted Baelor up on his back and told him to hold on. Baelor had always been thin, but with his exercise and fasting, he was so light that Aemon thought he might be able to carry him to safety, even in his weakened state. Without thinking, Aemon jumped. 

He landed on the edge of the pit, but he did not have a good grasp on the edge. Immediately, he felt how much the strength in his arms had faded and regretted the impulsive decision. He scrambled trying to find a hold and the strength to pull himself up. A young knight from the escort of the Dornish Prince ran to help him. He grabbed Aemon’s hand and pulled him up. 

“Thank you, ser.” Aemon heard himself say as he looked at the young man’s sigil a purple field with a sword and a falling star, “Thank you, ser. The Targaryens will reward House Dayne for your kindness.”

“Ser, I do not do it for reward. I do it for my Prince and because it would dishonor me not to help you.”

Aemon wished no harm on the young man, so he did not carry on the conversation too long. Instead, he focused on his goal, leaving Castle Wyl and getting his King to the Stormlands safely. 

As he passed Lord Wyl, he threw the key to the cage at his feet and thanked him for his hospitality

 

When he got out of the gates, he took the King to clearing by the road where the River Wyl, flowed cool and clear. As he lay Baelor down by the river, he took a drink of the cool clear, mountain water and thought about what he needed to do. Baelor moaned and prayed. He lifted the King’s head and made him drink the water from his hand.

Aemon knew he needed shelter. If there was any chance for the King to survive, they would need shelter. Someplace where he could tend to the King’s injuries. Aemon felt the cool air of the mountains on his chest. He would need shoes and a cloak. They would need food and fire. Aemon would also need a sword, so that he could defend the King in this enemy land. BlackHaven, the first keep of the Marcher Stormlands, had to be fifty miles through the Boneway. Aemon thought for a moment how he would ever be able to get through the mountains with no shoes, no supplies, not even a knife or flint, with a King who was suffering from multiple snake bites. It seemed impossible and highly likely that they would both die in these damned mountains. 

He looked down at Baelor and saw that his King was looking at him. “Your Grace, how are you feeling? Are you well?”

Baelor smiled, his eyes out of focused and his body shivering. “Aemon, you should call me Baelor. After all, we are cousins.”

“Your Grace, you are my cousin but also my King.”  
Baelor touched his arm and laughed, “I think I am seeing the impossible, I think I am witnessing the Dragonknight afraid.”

“We have a long journey ahead of us and I do not know how we will accomplish it.”

“Do not fear, Aemon. I promised Naerys I would return you and I shall. I have prayed to the Mother and She will protect us and get us home safely.” After Baelor said these words, he leaned over and started vomiting in the grass.

 

He heard the noise and knew there was someone in the woods. Aemon had no knife, no sword, nothing to protect him or the King. He reached in the cold water and picked up a heavy rock when the figure emerged from the woods. 

At first, Aemon thought it was a lad, slender and short. As the figure walked toward him, he saw the curves of her breast and the wide hips. She wore pants, tight so she could ride and fight easier. She had her hair in the headscarf so common around Dorne to keep the heat off the sun off them. She had a long dagger on her hip and a pack on her back and boots on her feet. Aemon kept the stone in his hand. For a brief second, he thought about overpowering her and taking her pack, dagger and the boots. It wasn’t a very knightly thought and he immediately regretted it. Perhaps, living in a cage for half a year had turned him into an animal. 

She stood a few feet away. “Good day to you, friend.”

“Good day, my lady.”

She laughed, “It looks like you have fallen on hard times. Your friend looks like he is very ill.”

“My cousin and my King.”

She looked at him, “A King… Of course it is a King. Silver haired. Blood of Old Valyria. Conquerors. Kings never do well in Dorne. You must not have listened to your history lessons to come here. “

 

“It was not my choice. I follow the King's command.”

She kneeled down next to Baelor and looked to Aemon briefly, for permission. He nodded. She looked at the bites on his legs and the tourniquets that Aemon had made from his robe to keep the poison from spreading. “What bit him? Was the snake all black or did it have a red diamond on his head?

“I could not see but there were both kinds in the pit.”

“Hmm….” she said and she started rummaging in her bag. “Did Wyl throw him in the pit?”

“No, the King went in willingly. To release me. I begged him not to. I begged him to leave me and save himself. Lord Wyl threaten the Prince’s men. “

She pulled some herbs out of a pouch and mixed some dirt in a small bowl, making a paste, she started spreading it over the bites. When she was done, she looked at him and Aegon noticed the purple eyes, much like his own staring back at him. 

She asked him, “How about you? Were you bitten?”

Aemon had no shirt and the temperature was starting to get chilly. His skin was starting to goosepimple and he wished the King had brought a cloak in the pit too. 

The woman touched his chest and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as if she had a strange effect on him. She looked him up and down, appraising him to see if he had any bites. “How long were you in that cage?

"I am unsure, but at least 3 moons.”

She touched his beard which was long and dirty, almost as if she could tell how long he was imprisoned by the length of his beard. Everytime she touched him he wanted to tell her to stop. She was too familiar with him. He reminded himself that she was probably the daughter of a shepherd or a tracker and did not know polite manners. 

She spoke, packing her things back in her bag, “We must get him to shelter. There is a small abandoned hut not to far. I can take you there. Are you strong enough to carry him? He is just bones, but you are only a bit better.”

Her hand was running up his ribs and he felt flushed. Only Naerys had ever touched him in such a way. Only once almost nine years ago, several months before she was married. He grabbed her hand to stop it. 

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.. But if you stay out here, you will freeze to death. If you come with me, there is at least a hope I will help you. After all, I am a weak woman and even you in such a sorry state could take me.” 

“I don’t even know your name…”

“Annie.. What is yours?”  
“Aemon.” 

“Well, Aemon if you can pick him up, we have just a few miles down this path. Maybe less.”


	2. Chapter 2

Aemon thought he was going to collapse. Even when he had fought in the Dornish War for hours in the heat of battle, he had not felt as worn out as his walk to the cottage. He had to stop several times and once felt he was going to faint. Annie had stopped and given him some water, “Just a little further. I promise, it is not long now. “

It must have been a handsome, albeit small, homestead once, but it had fallen on tough times being on the boundary between two hostile foes during a war. The barn had burned though there seemed to be a few chickens that were still roosting among its ruins. A few goats were in a field. When they saw the people, they came up to them, bleating their hellos and looking to see if they had some dried corn or a treat. 

Near the house by the path, there was a river and a huge tree. In the tree, the bodies of two women hung. In front of the house, there was a child that had been nailed to a tree in front of the house. The child was small no older than four, but probably, younger. Because of the amount of time, much of the body and clothes on the child had been eaten away by animals and birds and rot. Dragon’s Whores was painted below the child on the house.

At some point, the door to the house had been kicked in and it seemed like the family had been forced out. Aemon wondered if that was when the family had been murdered down by the river. He knew he would have to, at least, by bury the child, if he hoped to rest. 

When he sees the hut he thinks how he and Daeron discussed the invasion of Dorne, Daeron had been so arrogant, so confident. His cousin had looked at him, purple eyes burning, “Dorne will be part of the Seven Kingdoms. The people of Dorne will welcome us.” 

Besides the the door being kicked in and the struggle when the family had been pulled from it, the house seemed relatively untouched. Aemon knew that there were very little of value in this house and the people who had slaughtered the family had done it for reasons other than robbery. From the sign it was clear why the inhabitants had been slaughtered, somehow they had helped the Targaryen armies. Living in the Dornish Marches was a dangerous place even for a goatherd and his family. 

Bending his head, Aemon enters the cabin. King Baelor is still over his shoulder. The small cabin was made of two room and a loft, a large front room with a table, a bed and a fireplace, and a smaller one with a bed and storage. He could not see in the loft small with a front room, where the children must have slept. The ladder was on the floor, and several dishes had broken. Aemon had wondered if they had been washing dishes when the door was kicked in. 

Annie came in behind him and helped him lay the King on the bed. Aemon sat on the floor, trying to regulate his breathing. He spoke, trying to catch his breath, “We should start a fire.”

Baelor looked at him, barely conscious, “I am losing sensation in my legs. It's like being in the warm arms of the mother.”

Aemon looked at his King, “Baelor, stay with me. Do not leave. We will be at Blackhaven soon.” 

Aemon repeated himself, “We should build a fire.”

Annie looked at him, “Where there is fire, there is smoke.” 

It was a warning. Would they want someone to find them in the daylight? Aemon could wait until nightfall but the King needed warm water and they might be able to make a broth for food. Aemon’s stomach growled from hunger.

“Annie, we need hot water and something warm to eat. Let them come.”

She nodded, “I am going to find us some food.”

Aemon went in the small room and found some blankets and put them on the bed by the King. He built a fire in the fireplace. Then, Aemon went down to the river. The water was clean and cool from further up the mountain where the snow still lay. He had found two buckets buy the front door and he had taken the black stew pot from the hearth. He rinsed to pot with some water and filled it. He filled two buckets and drank five cupped handfuls of water. 

 

When he had gone into the house, Annie had said she thought she could find some rabbits and disappeared. Laughing, she had said, “I think there is garlic and and onion in the garden. See if you can find a carrot for a leek for our pot and we will make some soup for your king.” 

 

He went to the small kitchen garden. There was no carrots or potatoes. He found some leeks, onions, and a potato. There was rosemary, mint, thyme and garlic. He picked what he could. Looking in the garden, he had seen al child’s footprint in the soft ground of the garden, as well as in the reeds by the path of the river. Perhaps, a child had survived the murder of this family. 

 

Aemon started the broth in the stew pot. He had found some oats in a container. Throwing the oats, the herbs and the vegetables in the water, he placed the cookpot over the fire. Carefully, he raised the King and got him to drink some water.

Aemon had found a hammer in the shed beside the house, as well as a shovel. Under the tree, he dug a large hole. He cut down the remains of the bodies, hanging in the tree. From their clothes, they must be women, but their bodies were largely a ruin from the elements He laid each one in the in the pit beside each other. Then, he climbed on the roof and cut the child from the trees, wrapped what he could in a towel. He covered them with the loose dirt, feeling weary from lack of exercise and not enough food. 

Annie came back as he was finishing the last of the loose gravel. She had two rabbits and she brought them down to the river to clean. 

As she passed him, he asked her, “Do you know any prayers?”

“Let the dead say their own prayers. We have enough work trying to keep ourselves alive.” 

 

Aemon found some river stones and made a star with seven points. He said a prayer to the maiden and the mother, as well as the warrior. As he prayed, he said a prayer for Naerys

Aemon was exhausted and bone tired when he lay down. He needed to sleep. The King was shivering, shaking, and moaning in his sleep. On the floor beside the bed, Aemon rolled a blanket up and laid on the hard ground on a thin mattress that a child must have used, his legs hanging over the edge. 

 

He dreamed of the Red Keep, the only home he had ever had known. Aemon could not tell if it was real or what form he was in, as it seemed he was drifting, lighter than air. Perhaps, he had died and was a spirit. 

Drifting, he followed the hallways to get to Naerys’ chambers. As soon as he saw her, he knew she was dying and lost a great deal of blood. Two small bundles lay in a cradle wrapped for the pyre. She had had twins and they had both died. Father was sitting by her bedside, stone faced and tired, holding her tiny hand in his. 

“Where is Aemon?” she had said, “I hear him but I cannot see him.”

“Sweetling, we have had no word from Aemon or from the King since they rode into the Dornish Marches. Do not worry of your brother. I need you to get well. Get well. I have sent Aegon to Myr. He will not bother you. Naerys, rest and get well.

Aemon sat near his sister. He wanted to crawl beside her in her bed, as they had when they were children. He feels her spirit slipping away. 

 

He wakes abruptly. Small hands are shaking him, “Ser... Ser…. Ser, wake! Wake! A man comes. He is armed. He is coming! All in silver and purple…” 

He grabbed the dirty child that had woken him, “Enough!”

He looked into her dirty, dirty face and her green eyes with light brown hair, all snarled and matted. “Who are you? Where is he?”

“Outside..”

He let go of her to stand and she scurried out the back door, disappearing as quickly as she had come. Aemon covered the King as best as he could. Looking out the back door, Annie had also disappeared from the spot she had been in, cleaning rabbits.He wondered where she was and decided to go outside.

Cautiously, he walks outside. It is young Lord Dayne, riding up on a black Sand Steed.

“Good afternoon, Lord Dayne. What can I do for you?”

“I bring your sword, Ser. The Prince of Dorne wanted it returned to you. Do not hold Lord Wyl’s behavior against all of Dorne. Not all are like him, most are honorable.”

Dayne hands him Dark Sister. Having her back on his hip, in his hand, is a sweet reunion. 

Lord Dayne continues speaking, Wyl may send his men to come and find you. He is a very angry man.” 

“The Prince of Dorne honors his word. When he hears of it, Lord Wyl will be punished, but Sunspear is far away.

“Thank you Ser .. Lord Dayne.”

“Ser Aemon, I will stay with you and fight beside you to make sure the King is safe.” 

“No.. The King and I have only two or three days journey. I would not risk you harmed, Ser. Thank you, Lord Dayne. You have done House Targaryen two boons on this day.” 

Aemon watches him riding away. For a second, he wonders how he will get the King to safety. Aemon could not walk over stones with Baelor on his back. It may be less than fifty miles but it may as well been five hundred miles. He looks into the woods and wonders where the girl and Annie have gone. However, he is too exhausted to look for either of them.

He wakes to the smell of the dinner. His stomach is growling. Annie is over the fire, stirring the pot. She smiles when she sees him wake, “You have been sleeping for quite some time. Dinner is almost ready.” She sits down next to him, “Why don’t you see if you can find some eggs in the barn? We will throw them in the stew.”

Aemon takes a couple of spoonfuls of the stew, burning his tongue. Ravenously hungry, he goes out the barn to try and see if he can find some eggs. He sees the little girl, mostly wild, hiding in the ruin of the barn. Reaching out, Aemon extended his hand. Tentatively, she takes his hand. As he walks her to the house, he wondered why she had not gone to a neighbors for safety. Perhaps that is what they meant as a stony Dornish man.

A mangy dog, long haired, the kind of dog the shepherds used in the mountains to herd goats and sheep followed behind them. She called to the animal, “Come on, Dog.”

When they get to the threshold, she pauses afraid to go in. Aemon says to her, “Come on. It’s alright. We will have some dinner.”

Annie sees her and smiles, “Hello, my name is Annie and this is Aemon. What is your name?”

“Clementine.”

Aemon smiled as he ate. The girl was named after the small, sweet, orange fruit that could be found in every garden in Dorne. Daeron had grown so fond of them that he sent seven trees home to the Red Keep, so that he could eat the fruit when he was home.

After his second bowl of stew, Aemon is able to speak. He begins to try to feed his King some stew. “What happened to your family?” 

“I wanted to thank you Ser for burying my baby brother Pate and my sisters, Selena and Summer.”

Annie speaks slowly, the weight of her words are heavy, “They were your sisters and your brother.”

Over her soup, she continues her story, “Yes, Father and my older brothers died fighting in the invasion, fighting with Lord Wyl and his sons. Mother never recovered from the loss and died from a broken heart, not long after. Selena was the oldest of my sisters. She was the one to come up with the idea to sell eggs and cheeses to the Dragon troops. 

She fell in love with a soldier from the riverlands, her sweetheart. It is true she kissed him and maybe more, but my other sisters were good girls. Summer was only eleven and she was no whore. I swear on all the Seven. 

But when Lord Wyl pushed the Dragons army back His men came here hungry for blood. They slaughtered the goats, burned the barn. Nailed my baby brother on that tree. The boy and his friends were killed and my sisters raped and hung from that tree. I hid and I hid for a whole day and night in the woods just me and dog. I buried the goats. But I could not cut my sisters or brother down. I could not.”

Annie gathered her in her lap. “Shh. It is fine. A little girl can not be resposnisble for all that.”

Aemon asked, “How have you survived?” 

“I have eggs and what I find in the garden. Ser, I am indebted to you. You laid my brothers and sisters to rest.” 

Aemon thought to himself what help could the service of a seven year old girl be.


	3. Chapter 3

As the sun was setting, he ate another bowl of soup and a third. Annie picked up the sword, not like a peasant, but like someone who knew swords. She picked it up and appraised it. She smiled at him, like they shared a secret. “This is Dark Sister. It is a beautiful sword.” 

Smiling, he wondering how she knew that it was Dark Sister. He wondered how she knew how to hold a sword and from the look of it, she had skill wielding one, as well. Almost as curious, he wondered why he was smiling at this peculiar, somehow familiar stranger, who knew too much about him. Somehow being near Annie made you want to smile. 

Annie spoke, seeing the worry in his face, “Rest easy, Aemon. You worry too much. I will get you, the girl, and your King over the mountains. I know the way.” 

Annie found a rag, a towel and a brush. She washed Clementine’s face and started brushing Clementine’s hair. When she was done, she lay the girl in the room on a mattress with her dog beside her. Annie didn’t seemed convinced that the dog should sleep with her. “Don’t worry Miss. Dog and me... we sleep together every night. I couldn’t sleep unless he is close.”

True to her word, the girl was snoring, as was the dog in a few minutes. 

Annie looked at him and took him by the hand. “Come we must bathe you or I won’t be able to sleep in the same hut beside you. You smell like an animal.”

She had found some clothes, an old shirt and a pair of trousers that could be tied. In her arms, she held them, as well as some towels and soap. Annie held tightly to his hand as she led him down the short path to the river. Tired, he found he did not have the strength to refuse her. “Take off these clothes.” 

With a wicked smile in the moonlight, she got undressed quickly and stepped into the cool mountain water. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her, naked. In his twenty five years alive, he had only ever seen one woman naked, and though she had been lovely, she didn’t hold a candle to how beautiful Annie was on that riverbank. In the moonlight, he could see her motioning for him to join her in the water. Aemon untied his pants and stepped out of his clothes.

The water wasn’t as cold as he had expected. It had been so long since he had been in water, he found it soothing and made him calm. She had a thick bar of goat milk soap that smelled of peppermint. She sat behind him on the shore and motioned him to sit in front of her. Wrapping her legs around his body, she went to scrubbing his hair and his back, his legs and shoulders. The feel of her thighs against his legs made a strange sensation that he had not had in a long time. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would be rock hard thinking about her so close, naked, wet and willing. Against his right leg, he felt something cold and reached to touch it. Just below her upper thigh, her leg went from pale cream flesh to a golden cold metal. 

Aemon turned to look at the woman, “What magic is this?”

“Worry not, Aemon. I am not a witch. I was injured and it helps me walk. Be still and let me finish this.“

She pulled him back to lay against her as she scrubbed under his nails. He let his thoughts drift to Naerys, who he had always dreamed of marrying. Once, Naerys had come to him in his rooms. It had been before his father had said she must marry Aegon. Sweet silver haired Naerys. He had been in the bathtub and she had turned away so he could get out and get dressed with privacy. 

She had let him kiss her and had kissed him in return. They only shared kisses and a few hesitant touches. Both Aemon and Naerys were acutely aware that she was a princess and her maidenhead was valuable and not to be taken lightly. Aemon had whispered to her that night that he would marry her and she would be his. She had giggled and teased that he would find another to love. He had swore to her, if he could not marry her, he would never marry. True to his word, when she married Aegon, he had made his vows to the Kingsguard. 

Aemon had always thought that his Father a practical man, always so practical. Viserys never showed the emotional intensity of other Targaryens. Instead, he balanced the budgets, signed decrees, and made sure the kingdom prospered, while Aegon brooded, Daeron invaded, and Baelor prayed. Father, who never had bonded with a dragon, but always dreamed of flying on the back of one of the beasts. Viserys would have never consulted witches or mages except he desired for the dragons to return. One mage had prophesied that Naerys and Aemon’s child would bring the dragons back. So, Father married them, even though all three of his children had pleaded with him to not go through with the wedding. 

Annie rinsed his hair and she tapped him on the shoulder, “Are you sleeping, Aemon? Come. You are clean. Let’s get out of the river before we freeze.”

He looked at her, close in the darkness, and he touched her pale cheek. Leaning close to him, he thought she might kiss him. Instead, she laughed and stood up, walking to the shore and drying off with a towel. 

When they were back in the cabin, she made them a bed on the floor with the blankets and pillows she could find. Aemon checked on the KIng. Annie had made a bitter tea out of roots and herbs she had in her bag that would dull the pain and fight the fever, however the King seemed too hot to the touch and moaned. 

In the dying firelight, she spoke, “Come lay down.. We must sleep.” 

“I should stand watch.”

You are one man who has been in a cage for quite some time. Come lay down. Dog will bark if they come.. He has protected her. Rest for a few hours and you can guard after you rest.”

Hesitantly, he lay down next to her, rolling his back to her, so that she was behind him. Dark Sister beside him. Laying there, he felt her run her hands against his back. Speaking in a whisper, Annie said, “You are a very brave, very strange man, Aemon. Most men speak of their chivalry but you believe it. It was a good thing you did for that girl’s family. Burying them was the right thing, even though I thought it would kill you.”

He speaks back to her, “Annie, I am the blood of the Dragon. It takes much more to kill me,”

She laughs and he turns to look at her, laughing with her on the hard dirt floor of this hut. Her fingers touch his face and she kisses him. Aemon pulls back like she burned him. She continued laughing more gently, “You are part of Visenya’s guards. You have given up family and titles vowed to be celibate and father no children. Did she take your cock as well? “

Aemon thinks that he should roll away from her and go to sleep, but he does not. Feeling her fingers trailing his body from his shoulder to his hip, he finds he likes it, longs for her. Aemon was not unused to desire. Sometimes even he, the Dragonknight, would take himself in hand in his lonely room in the White Tower. 

One time, Daena came to him after she had found out that she must marry Baelor. She had always wanted to marry Daeron. Everyone had thought that they would be the pair to marry, but Daeron was too busy with a war. So, he arranged with his Hand to marry Baelor to Daena and bid them to make an heir for the Seven Kingdoms. 

Daena had found him alone in his room. She had stood by the door, locking it, had stepped out of her dress, naked and lovely. He had went to protest and she had pushed him back into a chair and straddled him like she was a horse she would ride to the death.

Biting her lip and looking in his eyes, Daena had whispered, “Make love to me, Aemon.”

“I cannot..”

“Baelor will never touch me. You are so handsome, so pleasing. Please me.” 

But, Aemon had resisted, even though he often would think of her naked on him, begging for him when he touched himself. Daena is faraway. Naerys seems even further. He feels he abandoned her all those months ago. But, Naerys was the one who told him to go, forget about her and all the promises they had whispered, all the love he felt for her. On the day before he left with Daeron, she had told him in her solar, “Put it away. Throw it away. Forget me and what I said. I am married.” 

“I know you aren't happy. I know you still love me.”

You know nothing, Aemon Targaryen. I do not love you, not anymore.” 

He knew she was lying, but as the days and weeks wore on in a crow’s cage, he began to wonder if she had put him out her head. Aemon had always felt a connection to his sister however with all the months between them, he felt that connectionless and loss. They are safe or they are dead. If Baelor dies with him, here in the Dornish Mountains, his father will be King. Viserys will do what he can for Naerys and Daena. 

 

Aemon tried to stop thinking of his family back in King’s Landing. This was all he had, this woman who wanted to just be with him. He had spent months in a cage, catching the garbage children threw at him to eat. His father did not send help and would not apologize that he had not, if he ever saw him again. Aegon, his brother, only treated him with disdain and the last thing Naerys had told him was that she did not love him anymore.

Annie rolls closer to him, her hands touch his sex. Unlike in the river, he is hard and eager. Aemon touches her breast, hesitantly. In a fluid movement, she pulls her shirt off and pushes her body up into his hands, “Do you like women, Aemon?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Put your thoughts out of your head and be here with me.”

He doesn't even know if that is possible. But, when she kissed him, it was like he was waking up and being reborn in her. Rolling over on her, he feels her legs part for him and how good and natural it is between her thighs. She is kissing him, laughing softly in the night. As the King rolls in his fever dreams of the Mother, Aemon and Annie make love all night on the dirt floor. 

In the dawn, she kissed him, his arm wrapped around her. With the sleep and the stew, he felt better, stronger. Aemon hated to admit it but he wondered if it wasn’t partly because of her and the sex. 

Annie didn’t seem to struggle with morales or any ethical concerns, like he did. He wondered how she could be so free. Stretching against him lazily, he felt her nipples hard against him. Aemon had a desire to bed her again and moved his hand to pull her close to him. Laughing sweetly, she kissed him, “I am going to wash before the girl wakes. Tonight.”

She wrapped herself in a blanket and collected her clothes from the floor and walked into the fresh cool morning. He sat up and watched her go, thinking of the night before. Her body was delicious and warm and real. She had pushed his head between her legs and told him to lick. Aegon had teased about how women taste like greasy fruit or the sea, but Aemon liked the way she tasted and how excited it had made her, letting him know even if he was inexperienced he was doing something right. Aemon scratched his beard and thought to himself that he should shave. Maybe, she liked his beard. He did not know how to ask her. 

The smell of piss is what brought Aemon back to the reality of his situation. Baelor had pissed himself and he would have to wash him.The King was very ill and needed a Maester or a healer. He had to get him to Blackhaven. Aemon got up and spooned some cool broth from the pot for the King. Baelor was still feverish and the bedclothes needed changed. 

Aemon looked in the side room, checking on Clementine and her dog. The little girl was curled against the beast of a dog, who partly on top of her. When he picked in the room. Dog looked at him, raising his head. Clementine must have felt the beast move, waking her. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at him with her light eyes, speaking, “Good Morning.”

Aemon answers her, “Good morning.” 

Clementine follows him to the main room. He scoops out a bowl of the stew for her breakfast and one for himself. The girl eats half of her bowl and goes to put it on the floor to feed the rest to her dog. Aemon stops her, “You finish your bowl and I will give your dog his own.”

Smiling, she eats the rest. When they are finished, the girl follows him outside to take a piss, He tells her that she has to go over a distance, by the trees. Aemon tells her, “It is only decent. You cannot stay too close.”

The morning is clear and beautiful but there is something amiss. He is glad for the familiar weight of Dark Sister on his hip. In the river, he sees Annie bathing, and he thinks she might be the prettiest woman he had ever seen. She steps from the water, shining like a goddess from Essos. Casually, she starts to dress, but she meets Aemon’s eye, when she touches her dagger. It is then he sees the men hiding in the trees. 

 

There were nine soldiers who stepped from the trees, all wearing the black viper of House Wyl. With Dark Sister in his hand, Aemon made short work of five. Annie had killed one and left one was bleeding and blinded by her dagger. The soldiers had mistaken how weak Aemon the Dragonknight was.

Desperate, the two soldiers remained. One grabbed Clementine. The man spoke, “Make a move and I will slice her throat.”

Even with his blade against her throat, Clementine struggled against him. The girl represented the Dornish perfectly, struggling even when all was lost.

There was a voice by the river that broke his thought. “Put the sword down or the whore gets it.” 

Aemon looked where the voice came from. The other soldier had Annie by the throat, his blade steady. Aemon hesitated. He could not cover the twenty yards to the girl and get to Annie in time. Taking a deep breath, he thought what he should do. Annie did not struggle. Aemon met her eyes, he saw her wink at him. 

The man, who held Clementine, saw the wink and went to flee, but his head came off, as if Dark Sister was a knife in warm butter. When he turned to see Annie, she had managed to bring the man to his knees by his hair, and in one deft movement, sliced his throat. 

Aemon picked up Clementine, and went to help Annie up the stony bank. 

Aemon wipes his blade, looking to see if there is anymore threat. He speaks as Annie dresses, “It wasn’t very knightly, but we survived.”

Annie answers him, moving the girl to the hut,“They kept you in a crow's cage. Did you think they would follow the tenets of chivalry? We must move now. Lord Wyl is coming and he will find you and your King. We must leave." 

Clementine looked at them, “There is a cart that the goats pull. Some of the goats have been trained to pull this the wagon. My father would have them pull it to market, full of cheese and soap. We could put your cousin in it. He doesn’t weigh any more than a good load to market.”

Aemon looked at her, “You want me to put the King in a cart pulled by goats?” 

Annie starts laughing. “Clementine, what a smart girl! They are looking for a knight and his King. Not a scruffy goatherd and his wild daughter. We will wrap the King up and hide him with some of the chickens. They will see a poor man on his way to market, not a Targaryen smuggling a King.”

As soon as Annie sent Clementine to fetch the cart, Annie started taking one of the man's boots off. Aemon asked, “What are you doing? “

She speaks, “You need boots and a jacket. I think he is the closest match to you. Now, go and get the cart and get your King ready. We must leave.” 

Aemon helped the girl get the cart. With her quick fingers and her endless energy, she harnessed four of the most trained goats she had to the cart. Aemon went to prepare and wash the King. By the time he carried the King, washed and covered in a blanket, to the cart, Annie had packed the pot, some blankets, eggs, and some useful things in the cart. Clementine had put the chickens in a cage and the goose in the back of the cart. In her little hand, she had bells to call the goats and a switch, herding the rest of the goats. Dog helped her, hopping and biting gently at their haunches.

Aemon lay Baelor in the cart. The goose honked at him in a warning.

Aemon looked at Annie and spoke, unbelieving, “She is bringing all the goats and the chickens.”

Clementine called to him, “They are much my father’s children as I am. They will die without us, Ser. They will be no trouble.” 

Aemon went to look critically at the goats that would pull the King. As if she was selling them, Clementine came up beside him to speak and look at his appraisal. She spoke to him as she scratched the ears of one of them, “They can pull your brother.”

“He is my cousin and your King.”

She shrugged, “They can still pull him to the Stormlands.”  
Aemon looked as he was finished dressing in Dornish mountain garb. The Dornishmen might be looking for a knight and a king, not a goat man. Baelor was hardly noticeable among the chickens and the supplies. They might be able to travel safely and avoid notice. Clementine had rounded up the fourteen goats that still remained, as well as the six chickens and the goose. Her thin arms were strong, as she guided the goats with her bells and hook. She slapped their haunches and scratched their noses calling them by their names and telling them they were going north to the lands of the Dragon.

Annie came up to him, “It is a good plan. With your beard, you look the part of a goatherd.”

Clementine handed him a switch of his own. With a flick of his wrist, the goats started down the trail. Clementine spoke as she walked beside him. “Ser, you saved my life. I may be the daughter of a lowly goatherd but I am not lowly. I have honor. I may be one of the small folk but I am not small. I owe you my life and I will repay you.” 

“Perhaps, one day you will repay me.” Aemon said, hoping he would survive this journey.


	4. Chapter 4

The first morning when they left the hut, Aemon was worried. There was no time to bury the dead and Aemon kept thinking how close Lord Wyl was, how easy it would be him to send out more men to finish the job. For several hours, he kept looking behind them certain he would see a troop of men sent to find them and kill them. 

Annie had told him he would have to put his sword in the cart. After all, what goatman would have a priceless Valyrian steel sword? Reluctantly, he had put Dark Sister beside the King and walked beside the cart, but he felt nervous without her attached to his hip. Aemon needed to make people think he was a simple goat man or the locals would let Lord Wyl know. He was sure that a commoner with the prospect of nothing to eat and the devastation of the war would give them up for whatever bounty was offered. If Lord Wyl found them, Baelor would die and he would be back in a crow’s cage. He did not want to think what might happen to Annie or Clementine. 

As they walked on that first day, Clementine had found him a large heavy stick with a hard knot on the top. It would do little damage against good steel, but it might give him some time while he retrieved Dark Sister. Also, it helped him guide the goats on the small path and keep them moving.

Keeping the goats moving on the path, together, was a difficult task. All the goats seemed to be stubborn and with each their own purpose and plan. However, by the end of the first day, Aemon learned who were the leaders and if he got them to move, the others would follow. Dog helped keep them in line, as did Clementine. However, Clementine rode in the wagon, driving the goats forward toward the north. 

As they walked and made distance from the hut, Aemon felt safer. Dog began to walk beside him, though he would often look to see his girl still in the cart. Aemon understood the beast’s loyalty because he often found himself looking at the cart toward the King. Absently, he would stroke the dog’s head.

Annie would sing old songs, some in Rhoynish and some in Common. Once, she broke into a Valyrian children’s song. Aemon looked at her, wondering where she had learned Valyrian lullabies. Often, she would disappear in the woods or brush to look for food or herbs. She might be gone for as long as an hour but she would always meet up with them on the trail. Sometimes she would limp as the leg hurt her. Once he gave her his stick to her when she looked particularly uncomfortable. 

Smiling, she had taken it, “What do I need this for?”

“To help you..”

“You just need to rub it.” She had leaned against him and he had felt his heartbeat quicken. 

 

Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he had said, “I will do that for you gladly and so much more..”

She had laughed and kissed him quickly, “I will hold you to it, Aemon.”

Handing him the stick, she had continued walking, slapping the goats to keep them moving. Aemon had found himself watching her and thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the most mysterious. 

On the end of the first day, they walked through the first village. When they saw the village from the mountain path, Annie looked at him and spoke. “I will go catch our dinner. I will meet you on the other side.”

“Why do you leave us?”

“Clementine will not like it if we eat all her chickens on the road. Let me catch a rabbit or two and I will meet you on the other side.”

In the village, some children tease him calling him goat man and trying to spook the goats. Aemon kept his head down drawing the headscarf around him a bit more. Dog thought the kids were playing and barked a gentle bark. Clementine yelled at them and climbed off the wagon to keep the goats on the path. Aemon looked in the wagon. He had covered the King and Dark Sister with a blanket and the King was so thin he was barely noticeable in the wagon. 

When Aemon got through the village, he stopped on the trail to check on the King.. The goose honked warning at Aemon while he checked on the King. Baelor’s fever seemed to be growing worse and he seemed paler, almost green.Clementine must have made friends with one of the children because she was nowhere to be seen. Dog looked at him as he checked each one of the goats and then he looked toward the road where the village was behind them.

When Clementine caught up with them, she had a scrape on her knees and a bruise on her face.  
She patted her dog and climbed back in the wagon. 

Aemon looked at her critically, “What happened?”

“The kids were teasing, so I taught them a lesson.”

“You fought them?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Ladies don’t fight.”

“Ser, I am not a lady. I am a Stony Dornishman.”

Aemon thought he should go talk to those children about fighting with a girl but he needed to get the King to Blackhaven, not teach the smallfolk lessons on chivalry. If he gets back to King’s Landing, Clementine might be a good playmate for Daeron. Daeron was a small boy, hesitant and thoughtful, lacking grace and skill with a sword. His future bride would be Dornish and it might be good to have a friend among the smallfolk, give him some perspective. If he and his cousins had some friends, perhaps they might be more in touch with commoners. This girl was all mettle. She would do well for Daeron and she would do well in King’s Landing.

On the morning of the second day they came across a village, the King’s fever seemed very warm and Annie could not find the root to bring down the fever. In her typical mysterious fashion, Annie disappeared in the forest, avoiding the village with a kiss and a smile. 

At some point, not too long ago, the village must have been a thriving border town. The sept was well made of plaster and stone and once had a stained glass window in the center. Now part of the sept was burned and the panes of the window had been broken The houses had been sturdy and well constructed before they had been burned by the Dragon’s armies. The village had once had two taverns, a butcher, and a blacksmith. However now, the town was a collection of burned houses and ruined buildings, almost a ghost town. The burned shells spoke of Daeron’s will and his troops and what they had done to the country he had hoped to rule. Where were all the people that had made this place their home? Aemon did not know but the signs of the abandoned shops swung in the breeze.

As they walked passed the ruined sept, an old Septon emerged. “Good day to you.”

The Septon eyed the chickens with hunger, “May I bless you, brother, or your child in trade for one of your chickens? I am hungry and the Seven would bless you.”

Aemon scratched his beard. Often, septons were healers and this man might have a tea or a potion to help Baelor’s fever. “Brother, my cousin is ill with a fever. Perhaps, you have a tea or tincture that might help. If you do, I will give you two chickens.”

The Septon came to the cart to have a look at the man lying there. Dog growled until Aemon hushed him. The Septon took one look at Aemon and then Baelor and he saw the truth of it.The Septon spoke, “You are the Dragonknight and this is the King who was so blessed by the Seven he walked barefoot across Dorne. I know who you are. Give me a minute.”

The Septon disappeared in the wreckage of the Sept. Clementine tugged at his sleeve, “I do not trust him. Let’s go.”

But Aemon pushed her away, “The man is a Septon and Baelor is a holy man.”

When the Septon emerged, he hands them an herb mixture to make a tea with for the King. He bows his head and prays for the king, speaking “May the Seven be with you. The roads are not safe.”

 

True to his word, Aemon gave him two chickens for his kindness. Clementine did not like the Septon or that her chickens would be his dinner. She grumbled to herself on the cart, as they continued on their journey

Clementine grumbled to herself until they came upon an apple tree, overlooking a mountain ledge. She climbed it and filled her cloak with as many apples as she could. Jumping down, she handed Aemon an apple as a peace offering. Annie emerged from off the path about that time. For the rest of the day, they ate apples and laughed while Clementine practiced The Dornishman’s Wife with the goat bells.

When Annie came back, he showed her the herbs the Septon had given them to make a tea. With one look at them, Annie had thrown them over the cliff, “The old man must have been blind. That mixture would kill the King, but I found the root. This should help.”

They made a quick fire to boil some water and the King’s fever went down but Baelor did not wake.

As they made camp that night, Clementine spoke over the campfire, “I might want to be a knight.” 

Aemon looks at the skinny girl and laughs, wondering if he could keep going on this road with these two women. “I do not think that would be proper.”

Annie pushed him, “For once in your life Aemon, do something against the rules.”

Aemon looked at her, “I believe that I have broken plenty of rules on this road from Dorne. You are a good girl and I can teach you to fight. But you could be the best warrior of all time, and if you are a woman, you will never be knighted in Westeros.”

As he lay next to Annie, listening for Clementine to fall asleep, he thought to himself that he could stay with the woman and the girl for the rest of his life. They could find a hut and live out there days in the mountains. It was rumored that his grandfather, Daemon, had done something similar and lived the rest of his long life in the mountains of the Vale with Nettles.

Aemon wonders if Annie would stay with him as trackers or hunters in these mountains. This girl would call him, Father, and Annie, Mother. Perhaps, there would be other children Or they could go to Lys with his mother’s family? The Rogares would love to see him, another chance for a foothold with the Targaryens. At that moment, Baelor moans and Aemon’s fantasy fades with his King’s cry.

In the day, when he is not busy keeping goats on the path, he teaches Clementine how to use her small size to fight bigger boys and shows her how to use a stick as if it was a sword. The girl is light on her feet and quick. Even Annie joins in, teaching Clementine how to fight becomes one of their favorite past times on the journey over the mountains. 

At night, Aemon beds Annie every night as Baelor shook with fever. He would wait until Clementine was asleep. If he fell asleep waiting for the girl to sleep, Annie would wake him with bites and licks, scratching his skin, her hands searching underneath his clothes. 

Once, when he was buried inside her, lost in the silver madness of her hair, he heard her whisper, “Aegon..”

“He stilled, looking for her eyes in the dark, the deep violet that echoed his own, “You know my brother... You called his name.” 

“You misheard me, Aemon.”

Hesitantly, she pushed him in the soft ground and climbed on top of him. He wondered if she was like Casella of Vaith and perhaps she was pining for his brother. She had silver stretch marks on her stomach, so once she had had a child. He wondered if this was a trick on Aegon’s part, an elaborate ruse to show that he was not the greatest knight, but a man, like any other with failings and faults. Aegon would revel in this and he would use it to hurt Naerys in a way his own infidelities had never hurt her. Imagine what Naerys might feel if she had known that Aemon has found a lover in the Dornish mountains, one with a Targaryen look. Annie was full of laughter and life, strong and stubborn like a goat. Naerys was full of poetry and prayers, gentle and submissive like a lamb. 

Guilt flooded him and shame. How could he have done this and how would it hurt Naerys? Then, Aemon thought how could he be unfaithful to his sister. She was not his wife. She was not his and never would be, no matter what they had promised as children. 

Gently, he pushed her off and turned away from her. Aemon thought to himself how much Aegon or his father might have paid her. It made sense that she was some guide. She knew so much about his family and their history. 

Annie pulled him back to her, holding his face in her hands. “Aemon, I love you. I do. Crazy as that might seem. I do not know your brother. Do not turn away. I misspoke. I love you, Aemon Targaryen. It was luck that I came across you here in Dorne.”

Aemon’s guilt and cares disappeared in the darkness with her kiss and her love.

On the night before they reached Blackhaven, Annie had tied ribbons and beads in braids around her head. When she was finished, she had done the same to Clementine, like a mother might do her daughter’s hair. Then, Annie had given her a gift because their journey was almost done. Annie had made the girl a necklace with white ribbon and a purple stone. 

At first glance, it seemed a simple common thing. But Clementine had brought it close to Aemon to show her new gift. At closer inspection, the stone looked valuable. Even though it was small, the setting was ornate and antique.

When Clementine had fallen asleep, he had said to her that it seemed too valuable to give to a common girl. “Aemon, I know where this girl is headed. It is hers, my gift to her. One day, she will give it to someone who will need it. It will be necessary.” 

“What do you know about the future?”

Annie had laughed and kissed him, “Worry not, Aemon. I have gifts for you of a different sort,” and she had pulled him in her arms. They spent the night in a slightly desperate frenzy, wild with desire and regret. When the sky began to turn white, Aemon had wrapped his arms around her, as she collapsed on top of him. Aemon wanted to tell her how he felt, but he could not begin to speak all of what he held inside. Instead, he said, “Stay with me.”

He felt stronger than he had in months. There was a sense of clarity out here that Aemon never had in King’s Landing. He was not just a sword to protect the King. He was a man and a good man.

 

He spoke as she looked in his eyes, “I have this dream. I have had it since I was little. Right after my mother returned to Lys, I started having it. I dream that I die protecting the King. I have always thought it my destiny. But you have changed that for me. There is more than protecting the King. I deserve to be happy, to be in love. I do not have to be some tragic figure. You have let me know there is so much more in my future than Aemon the Dragonknight, bound to his brother and sister.”

 

She didn't move but she was looking at him. Aemon continued, “I just have to get Baelor to safety but I do not have to.. Stay. I could go with you. We could..” 

Annie placed a finger on his lip. “Aemon, stop talking. I would not have you think back on this moment with regret, and I know if you continue speaking, you will regret it.”

He bit her finger playfully and she laughed. Annie leaned over, kissing him and biting his bottom lip, “Tomorrow, our journey will be at its end. You and your King will be safe. Clementine and her animals will be safe. You will go to your capital, or wherever your King goes, and I will stay in Dorne. I made that decision long ago and even a man as sweet as you cannot sway me.”

Annie kissed Aemon. 

“Let me try,” he said pulling her to him.

Laughing, she kissed him, “Sweet Aemon, my Goatman.” 

On the morning of the fourth day, they could see the tops of Blackhaven. They were not far from the gates when Lord Wyl’s men fell upon them. He wondered how far Lord Dondarrion could see. There were at least twenty men, all on horseback, riding hard.

The goats scattered from the pounding of the hooves. Clementine looked at him fearfully. Quickly, he grabbed Dark Sister from the wagon and wrapped the King. He looked toward Lord Wyl’s men and tried to estimate the distance to Blackhaven. If he stood his ground and Clementine rode hard, she might make it to the gate.

It was the only chance the King had.

He looked at Clementine. “Ride as hard as you can to the castle! Tell them this is the King.” 

“Ride!” he yelled hitting the lead goat’s haunch and the goats took off with a flurry of chickens and the goose, flying off the wagon, honking loudly. Clementine never looked back, and he hoped she would not be harmed.

Briefly, he glanced at Blackhaven. The gates were opening and soldiers came riding out. Aemon did not know if they would make it in time.

Aemon had to give her time to get the King to safety and then he could die. He turns to face the men with Annie and Dog. Annie smiles at him and pulls her knives free, one for each hand, Aemon wishes she had gone with Clementine and the King. She would be safer, so would Baelor. He stands with Dark Sister drawn in the morning sun.

In the sunlight, the light catches his eyes and there is an illusion. Annie disappears. His senses heighten as they always do in a battle. He looks again and she is still gone. Aemon can't worry about it. Twenty men are riding out to kill him. He looks at the dog, “ Go!”

Dog does not move. He bares his teeth at the coming foe. 

Aemon hears the horses from Blackhaven and he feels the ground shake from the two forces colliding toward each other. He is in the center. He only feels Dark Sister and her weight in his hand. He plants himself in the ground. Perhaps, today his dream will come true

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know- -- If you have guessed who Annie is, keep it a secret. All will be revealed in the next chapter and I hope to have it finished this week. 
> 
> I love the idea of Aemon standing to fight men riding toward him like Jon in the Battle of the Bastards. 
> 
> This hasn't been the most read story I have written but it has been one of the most fun to write!!


	5. Chapter 5

Aemon is in a field with Naerys where it is green with purple flowers. He has her hand in his and he is laughing with her. At first, he thinks they are children but he noticed she has a woman’s shape. When he goes to touch her face, he finds he cannot touch it. Aemon knows he is dreaming. Aemon wakes up to Dog, laying on his bed beside him The dog had been washed and combed. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dogs' nose protectively sniffing him. 

Aemon’s side and stomach hurt as he tried to sit up. The King was in a room beside his and the door was open. He could see people attending the King, so Baelor was still alive. He had kept the King alive. On the other side, Clementine was sleeping on a cot next to him. The girl looked washed and combed like the dog. 

 

As he struggled to sit up, he heard the voice o a man. The Maester of Blackhaven has more grey than black hair and looks more like a soldier than a Maester. Aemon thinks such is the way in the Dornish Marches. All men must fight in the Marches of Dorne. Tne Maester says, “Rest easy, Ser Aemon. You took a serious strike to your chest and stomach. We do not want it to fester.” 

“How is the King?”

“Seriously ill, but I think he might make it with the grace of the Mother.”

“How is the woman, the woman who came with me?”

“Ser, you came in with no woman.”

“No, the woman. She was a trader or a tracker. Silver hair tied in a black scarf, she had a Valyrian look to her. Her name was Annie.”

“There was no woman with you, just the King, the dog, the goats and the girl. I couldn’t believe the girl made it to the gates with the King in one piece. You pulled him in a goat cart like he was being hauled to market. A cart not fit for a person, nevermind a King and a Saint.” 

He grabbed the Maester’s arm, “I am in no mood for jokes. Tell me the truth. Where is Annie?” 

The Maester pulled his arm from him. “Ser, there was no woman with you. You have just had a terrible journey and have been imprisoned in a cage where you were exposed to the elements, starvation, dehydration, muscle atrophy and then you walked with the King for several days. It was a hallucination brought on my trauma, hunger pains, pushing your body to the extreme. There was no woman.” 

Aemon knew he sounded like he was crazy, “She was real. She knew things. She touched me…”

“Perhaps, that is how she knew things because she was a figment of your own imagination. Maybe she was the Mother to bring her mercy.” 

 

Clementine wakes from his yelling and looks at him in her dress. For a moment, she watches the Maester leave and shut the door. As soon as the door is shut, she hugs him, “Ser Aemon, I am glad you woke. Dog and I thought might not wake. I don't think they like us here. The kitchen maid says we smell Dornish and that no matter how much she scrubs us the smell will not come out. I almost hit her but the Septon told me to calm down. I prayed you would not leave us here.” 

Aemon looked at her, “Are you hurt, Clementine? I hear you made it to the gates. Surely, you will be a knighted in King’s Landing for helping the King reach safety.”

She beamed a smile as wide as her face. “I did and I am not hurt. The cart lasted all the way to gates. The King has not woken and the Maester does not know if he will.” 

Gently, she climbed into the bed with Aemon, “I am glad you have woken. I am glad to have a friend in this strange place.” 

“Do you remember Annie? Was she with us? Or had I dreamed her?” 

Annie was with us. Ser, do not doubt it. She was beautiful. If the King is your cousin, she could have been your sister. She would sing to me and scratch Dog and kiss me like a mother before bed. She would kiss you too, at night when I was supposed to be asleep. She was real. She was with us. She was as real as you or me. She was no hunger pain, Ser.”

 

Septon Ewan came as night fell. He was a big man, bigger than Maester Juren and he carried a huge tray. On it was a battered copy of the Seven-Pointed Star, a pitcher of ale, a plate of sweets and a plate of cheese, as well as some candles. 

When he saw Aemon sitting up in bed, he smiled a broad smile and Aemon thought to himself that this man had definitely wielded a sword before he found the Seven. He sat and poured him some ale. Clementine came close. “Clementine, I brought you some honey milk, something sweet for the girl and a bone for your dog.”

Septon Ewan threw the stew bone and Dog laid down munching happily. He spoke, “Tell me your story, Ser. Maester Juren thinks you might be possessed by some Rhonyish devil or wicked spirit. So, he has bid me come. I brought some ale and thought we might talk. I find ale helps with talking.

Aemon took a deep breath and told the story, except for some parts which might not have been appropriate for Clementine to hear. As he spoke, he found Septon Ewan a man easy to talk to and he knew that the Septon understood, even what he did not say. 

 

When he was finished speaking, Septon Ewan folded his hands in his lap and spoke, “You are not the first man to come from Dorne, speaking of a beautiful silver-haired woman with a limp who saved his life. Over the last one hundred years, stories have come from Dorne, usually the desert but sometimes the mountains. A woman comes to help them in their most dire need, out of nowhere. She is strong and smart and lovely. She helps them and gets them to safety and then she disappears. I have never heard the silver lady with the golden leg staying so long or having such closeness as with you both. such conversation.” 

“So, you are telling me Annie was an angel or a ghost story?”

“I do not know who she is... Or what? Some people believe her to be Queen Rhaenys for her spirit still helps her people.” 

“Queen Rhaenys? Aegon’s wife?”

“Yes, there are some who believe when she died here she chose to stay here to help others in need like she was.” 

Aemon spoke, “She told me her name was Annie.”

“Not too far from Rhaenys. Perhaps, her family did call her that.”

“Are you sure there was no woman?” 

“No you were alone. Even the scouts with the spyglasses, who saw you long before Wyl’s men rode against you, only saw you and the girl with the wagon. 

Aemon seemed confused. The Septon spoke, “We all have our tests of faith, of honor, of duty. They say you will be one of the greatest knights who ever lived. Perhaps, she was a test for you. You do not have to tell me of it. You know your own heart.” 

 

The next day, Septon Ewan came to Aemon again and slowly, he and Aemon formed a friendship. At the end of the week, Septon Ewan told him of the Maester Juren and how he had changed Aemon’s story. “The Maester is a religious man and is in his glory that our saintly king is here. He has already rewritten your story. You came shoeless, half-naked, carrying our King on the back of an ass, given to you by pious Septon in the mountains of Dorne.”

Aemon asked, “How is an ass better than a goat cart with a goatherd’s daughter?”

Septon laughed” I think it has a better image to our Maester than the indignity of him being jostled with a goose and covered in chicken shit. But, I agree that the story does not seem so different except in his story the Septon is a man of faith and a hero. In the true one, the septon in the village betrayed you.” 

“The septon from the village?”

“Yes. One of Lord Wyl’s men told Lord Dondarrion that the Septon was the one who betrayed you. He was an informant for Lord Wyl.” 

Aemon realized it had not been an accident but the Septon had been intentionally trying to hurt Baelor by poisoning him. 

Aemon thought about it after the Septon left. Annie had saved them from danger, even danger he had not seen.

The Maester Juren at Blackhaven was both a man of Faith and a man of letters. He changed the story from a cart pulled by goats to a donkey being given to by a Septon in the mountains. Aemon never refuted it because he had struggled with his own doubts and grief in the mountains. 

As for Clementine, she went on to King’s Landing and became a member of Daeron’s closest friends. It is said that originally the place where Summerhall was built was gifted to her by King Baelor for her loyalty and her help in his hour of need. Daeron and Clementine went on to have their own stories and adventures. However all record of her was erased because of her stubbornness and her loyalty. Before her death, she was able to give the stone that Annie had given her to Queen Naerys who gave it to her eldest granddaughter.

 

But these are stories for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this story. It took a very long time but I really enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!


End file.
